The Mountains Of Brega

Chapter 15

Truja's plan was the best prospect Blade had, but not at all foolproof. With both Rilgon's army and the Purple River force on the march, someone might warn the city any day. Not likely, but not impossible either. If that happened, the Great Games would be canceled. And then the best opportunity for rescuing Blade would vanish.

Possibly Truja was bold enough to risk snatching Blade from the prison below the barracks. But unless Truja's raiders were strong or the guards distracted, the operation would be suicidal.

Blade sighed. For the week remaining until the games, his safety depended more on the undetected advance of Rilgon's army than on anything Truja or any other friends of his could do. Blade believed in luck-but as a professional, he hated like the plague to depend on it this much.

For the remaining week of his captivity, Blade's biggest problem was not to seem too eager for the day of the games to arrive. Even the least observant guard would start wondering why a man was so enthusiastic about the day of his death.

For the evening meal on the last day, they brought Blade an immense platter of meat that was raw on the inside and charred black on the outside. As much as he wanted to gorge himself, he ate only a few slices. He did not want to be slow and sluggish from too much food tomorrow morning when he entered the arena.

The guards came for him early the next morning, binding his hands but leaving his feet free. Then they marched him briskly, down the corridor and up the stairs to the courtyard of the barracks.

It was a bright day outside. After so many weeks of darkness the sun dazzled Blade. For his first few steps he had to grope his way forward, feeling for solid ground underfoot. Raucous laughter from all around the courtyard accompanied his fumblings.

Now Blade thought he understood why he had been ill-fed and ill-treated, left unwashed and unshaven and generally degraded. The ruling women of the city had to degrade a civilized man if they captured him. Otherwise those who saw him might begin to wonder if men might be worth more than the Laws of Mother Kina said. And if they began to wonder about that…

But understanding the reason for his treatment didn't make Blade appreciate it any more. His mood was savage as the women tied a rope around his neck and led him out of the courtyard like a prize steer. Once out in the street, they broke into a jog. They were obviously trying to wear Blade down and make him fall pitifully to the street. But his exercises in his cell had kept his muscles in better shape than the women had expected. His legs were aching and his breath burning in his chest and throat, but he was still on his feet when he reached the arena.

It loomed monstrous and black above him. The roar of the crowd from inside suggested that half the population of the city must be there already. And more were coming in each minute, most on foot, some in wagons, a few brought in on curtained litters. Several of the litters were festooned with brightly colored banners, blue and green. Even more of the banners flew from poles on the rim of the arena, so that it looked as though it had blossomed out in flowers.

That was all Blade had a chance to see before his guards hustled him through a small door near the base of the arena. Inside, a dark, dank corridor led steeply down, ending in a heavy polished metal door. One of the guards banged on it with the hilt of her sword, and it rumbled open.

Inside, the crowd roar came even louder from above, broken by occasional bursts of cheers and groans. Apparently the preliminaries to the games were already well underway. Working up the crowd's blood lust, Blade thought. He looked around the vaulted chamber, searching for a familiar face, searching above all for Nugun. But the Senar was nowhere in sight.

In the corner of the chamber stood a large, wheeled cage holding four Senar. They were even filthier than usual for the breed and were growling savagely and clawing at the bars of their cage. Chained to the wall just out of their reach was a nude girl, sitting slumped in total dejection and despair. Some lawbreaker, no doubt, tried and condemned to be thrown to the Senar in the arena. And the Senar would doubtless have been drugged or beaten to make them savage enough to put on a proper show for the bloodthirsty crowd in the stands. Blade wondered if he would get the same treatment or if they thought he would be nasty enough in his normal state. If they thought the latter, they were right. In his present mood, he would have torn any of the warriors of the city limb from limb, barehanded and without a qualm. Chivalry be damned!

Blade turned as the door rumbled open again and saw Idrana stalk in, followed by a file of armed women. By the time the door closed behind them, there were more than fifty packed into the chamber. Blade noticed that all carried bows and very well-filled quivers.

The women arranged themselves around the chamber, keeping close to the walls and leaving an open space in the middle for Blade and his guards. They seemed reluctant to approach him, as though he were a wild animal. Or perhaps they sensed the fury that was bubbling in him and feared it might suddenly boil over onto them.

Idrana had no such fear. She stepped up to Blade until she was close enough to reach out and touch him. Her nostrils flared at his odor. Otherwise she seemed poised and ready, like an arrow about to fly from the bow. Blade decided against taunting her. She looked able to kill him on the spot, even if it spoiled part of her show.

«You look worried, Blade. Is it that you do not know what will be done with you?» Blade made no reply, and after a moment Idrana realized that he would make none. She grinned.

«You-you and your, friend the Senar-will be taken to the center of the arena. My women and I will stand around the edge of the arena with our bows. And we will shoot arrows at you. We will try not to hit you-at first. We want good sport, and the good sight of men-men-running about like bugs from a fire, while our arrows whistle past their ears. And then, when we have put so many arrows into you that you look like spine-fruit, we-«She broke off abruptly, as though she had suddenly realized she might be about to say too much.

Blade carefully kept his face expressionless, but inside he was a churning mass of thoughts. Nugun was alive-for the moment. And they were both going to be shoved out to die as-archery targets-to put on a show for the city.

A final roar of cheers and shouts came from up above. It died away, and in the silence that followed Blade heard drums roll and a single trumpet call out, high and brassy. Idrana spoke to Blade's guards. «Lead him out,» she said briskly.

As she spoke, the gate to the arena itself rumbled open. Blade stared out across two hundred yards of hard-packed sand. It was bare and featureless with only a few patches of blood here and there. On it nothing moved, except a two-wheeled cart drawn by an ambling ox. The cart was piled high with the bodies of Senar. Blade saw arms and legs trailing down.

Then the trumpet sounded again, and Blade's guards pulled him out into the sunlight. He blinked-and then stiffened as he saw another door open in the wall of the arena. Eight guards emerged, pulling a wheeled cage. In that cage was a single Senar.

Nugun.

Blade did not realize that he had shouted the name aloud. Idrana bared even white teeth in a savage grin as she heard him. «So he is-something unnatural-to you after all? Well, well. It is said that such pairs have a great desire to die together. At least you cannot deny that we have granted you that wish.»

If Idrana had spoken three more words, Blade would have strangled her on the spot. But she said nothing, and the rope tightened around his neck as the guards stepped up their pace.

Five minutes later he stood in the very center of the arena. Twenty feet away stood Nugun, staring at Blade as though he were someone returned from the dead. Perhaps to the Senar he was.

Blade raised a hand in greeting. «It seems we cannot kill Blenar or bad Senar or women of the city today, Nugun. They are going to kill us.»

Nugun shrugged. His massive body was thinner and reeked of filth and neglect. But he held himself as erect as ever, and his eyes were not dimmed. «Nugun know. But Nugun not die easy. Nugun fight.»

«I will fight too,» said Blade. «Perhaps we can kill some women.» He was not optimistic, though. If he and Nugun tried to rush the archers across a hundred yards of open sand, they would indeed be sprouting arrows all over before they had gone very far. Their only hope was Truja's making her move, and he had no idea when that would be-or whether she would even be able to make it at all. To snatch Blade and Nugun from the middle of fifty archers would be a neat trick.

Idrana herself was striding out now to take her position in the circle of archers. Blade used the extra time to look carefully around him. The arena was no more than one-third full, yet that one-third must have held better than twenty thousand people. Blade noticed that most of the women wore sober browns, grays, and blacks, except for those who were showing off their loyalty to their faction. One whole section was filled with a solid mass of women in bright blue. Fifty yards farther on, he saw an equally large mass of equally bright green. Blade saw banners floating above the rear ranks of each faction and the glint of weapons on either side.

Idrana was in position now. Her voice rose high and clear, carrying across the arena and rising above the continued murmur of the crowd. «Oh, Sisters of the City of Brega, look upon us. This day, to Kina, Mother of All, we offer as sacrifice-these men.» The trumpet sounded a third time, and the drums rolled to be promptly drowned out by cheers and shouts.

Idrana stepped forward a pace, pulling an arrow from her quiver and nocking it to her bow. This was a signal for all the other archers around the arena to do the same.

Blade stared at the archers drawing a bead on him. Then he took a deep breath, grinned at Nugun, and made himself ready for what would literally be a dance of death.